Swan's Braid and Other Tales of Terizan

  OTHER BOOKS BY TANYA HUFF

  THE BLOOD BOOKS

  Blood Price

  Blood Trail

  Blood Lines

  Blood Pact

  Blood Debt

  THE SMOKE BOOKS

  Smoke and Shadows

  Smoke and Mirrors

  Smoke and Ashes

  THE FOUR QUARTERS

  Sing the Four Quarters

  Fifth Quarter

  No Quarter

  The Quartered Sea

  THE KEEPER CHRONICLES

  Summon the Keeper

  The Second Summoning

  Long Hot Summoning

  TORIN KERR NOVELS

  Valor's Choice

  The Better Part of Valor

  Heart of Valor

  Valor's Trial

  The Truth of Valor

  THE ENCHANTMENT EMPORIUM

  The Enchantment Emporium

  The Wild Ways

  The Future Falls

  Wizard of the Grove

  Gate of Darkness, Circle of Light

  The Silvered

  The Fire's Stone

  SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS

  What Ho, Magic!

  Stealing Magic

  Relative Magic

  Finding Magic

  Nights of the Round Table

  February Thaw

  Swan's Braid, and other tales of Terizan

  Swan's Braid and Other Tales of Terizan

  Copyright © 2013 by Tanya Huff

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Tara O'Shea.

  Published as an e-book by Jabberwocky Literary Agency, Inc.

  ISBN 978-1-625670-38-0

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Swan's Braid

  First published in Swords of the Rainbow (Alyson Publications, April 1996)

  Collected in Stealing Magic (Tesseract Books, 1999)

  In Mysterious Ways

  First published in Bending the Landscape (Borealis Press, March 1997)

  Collected in Stealing Magic (Tesseract Books, 1999)

  The Lions of Al'Kalamir

  Original to Stealing Magic (Tesseract Books, 1999)

  Sometimes, Just Because

  Original to Relative Magic (Meisha Merlin Publishing, September 2003)

  Collected in Stealing Magic (EDGE Science Fiction and Fantasy, 2005)

  The Things Everyone Knows

  First published in Under Cover of Darkness (DAW Books, February 2007)

  Collected in Finding Magic (ISFiC Press, 2007)

  AUTHOR'S NOTE ON "SWAN'S BRAID"

  I'm pretty sure that it was at the Gaylaxicon in Philadelphia in 1993 when Jewel Gomez asked if I might have a sword and sorcery type story that would work for Swords of the Rainbow, an anthology she was editing with Eric Garber. Now I don't specifically remember bouncing, but I suspect there was bouncing involved because I'd had the ending of “Swan's Braid” in my head for some time with no idea where I could possibly sell the story it ended. These days, an LGBT protagonist wouldn't necessarily limit your market, but back in the early '90s things, while on the cusp of change, were still a bit ... difficult. And even if I hadn't had a story in mind, I suspect I'd have come up with one for Jewel anyway because she's just one of those very cool and amazingly talented people you want to do things for – at least partially in the hope that some of that cool and amazing rubs off.

  SWAN'S BRAID

  Horses. Terizan cocked her head to one side and sifted the sounds of the city. A lot of horses. And no one rode in Old Oreen, although in the newer areas the laws had been changed. The sound of horses, therefore, could mean only one thing.

  "Swan's back! The Wing has returned!"

  Terizan grinned. Obviously, she wasn't the only one who realized what the sound meant.

  Buzzing like a hive of excited bees, the crowd began to push back against the shops and stalls, treading both on merchandise too slowly snatched to safety and each other. Terizan saw a number of small children being lifted to better viewpoints and decided the idea had merit.

  Slipping sideways into a narrow alley, she leapt for a cistern pipe, touched toe to window-ledge, to awning pole, then swung up onto the sandal maker's flat roof. Settling down beside a large clay pot of hot peppers like she belonged there – few people stopped to question first impressions – Terizan lifted a hand to block the late afternoon sun just as Swan's Wing rode into view.

  The crowd didn't so much cheer as scream its appreciation.

  Helmless, her short hair glinting like a cap of mountain gold, Swan rode in front, flanked a half length back by her second, the man they called Slice, and her standard bearer, a girl no older than Terizan who bore a bloody bandage around one eye as proudly as she bore the banner. There were a lot of bloody bandages, Terizan noticed. It seemed that Hyrantaz's bandits had not been defeated without cost.

  But, in spite of the popular belief that it couldn't be done, they had been defeated. Slice carried Hyrantaz's head on a pike, the jaw bobbing up and down to his horse's rhythm.

  They'll be going to the Crescent, Terizan thought, eyes locked on Swan as she passed, the red gold of her life-braid lying like a narrow line of fire against the dusty grey of her backplate. Terizan's heart pounded harder and faster than usual. If I hurry, I can be there first.

  ***

  It seemed that half the city was already in the Crescent when Terizan arrived. She saw a number of people she knew, ignored most of them, and pushed her way in beside a friend in the front row. He turned languidly, and, when he saw who it was, his heavily kohled eyes widened in mock horror. "You're sweating."

  Breathing a little heavily, Terizan wiped her forehead on her sleeve. "I beg your pardon, Poli. I forgot that you don't."

  Poli smiled and patted her cheek. "Not without cash up front." His smile was his greatest asset; he had a way of using it that convinced the recipient that no other living being had ever been smiled at in such a way. Terizan wasn't at all surprised that he'd been able to make his way through the crowd to a place beside the Congress' steps where he could not only see, but hear all.

  The distant cheering grew louder and then spilled over into the surrounding crowd. Terizan wanted to leap up and down on the spot as others around them were doing, trying for their first look at the Wing but she took her cue from Poli and somehow managed to stay calm.

  "SWAN! SWAN! SWAN!" The chant became a roar as Swan reached the Congress' steps and reined in her horse. The Wing spread out behind her.

  Terizan counted, and then counted again. There were only a dozen riders and two pack horses plus the standard bearer, Slice, and Swan herself. The twelve had seemed like a horde in the close confines of the old city but here, in a single line, they were frighteningly few. "That can't be all that survived."

  "The rest are camped outside the city boundary," Poli said calmly, not so much to her as to the air. "Not in the same place they were camped when they made their kind offer to rid the trade road of Hyrantaz's pack of hyenas but close enough."

  "How do you know?"

  Poli raised an elegant brow. "Do you honestly think I wouldn't know where a great many mercenaries who have just returned from a dangerous campaign and will no doubt wish to celebrate their survival and are soon to have a great deal of money are camping?"

  "Sorry." She wondered briefly how he'd managed the entire statement in one breath and then lost all further interest in Poli, the crowd, and the rest of the Wing as Swan raised a gauntleted hand.

  "You're drooling," Poli murmured, his voice amused.

  "Am not." But she wiped her mouth anyway. Just in case.

  When the noise of the crowd finally faded in answer to Swan
's command, the huge double doors of the Congress building swung open and the council that ran the city-state of Oreen stepped out. All seven were present and all in full robes of state; but then, they'd had plenty of warning, Terizan reflected, for the runner who brought the news of Hyrantaz's defeat had arrived at dawn, his shouted news jerking the city out of sleep.

  "We have done what we were hired to do," Swan declared before any of the councilors could speak. Terizan shivered as the other woman's clear voice lifted the hair on the back of her neck. "We have come for payment."

  Reluctantly dragging her gaze from Swan, Terizan could see how agitated some of the councilors were – constant small and jerky movements betrayed them. They hadn't thought she'd win. The idiots.

  Councilor Saladaz, who'd recently been appointed to his sixth straight cycle as head of the Congress, stepped forward and cleared his throat. "There was the matter of proof," he said.

  At a gesture from Swan the two pack horses were led forward and the bulky oilskin bundles heaved off to lie at the councilor's feet. "It was... inconvenient to bring the bodies," the mercenary captain told him dryly as ropes were untied. "These will have to do instead."

  Saladaz leapt backward as the battered heads rolled out onto the Congress steps and the crowd roared with laughter. Out of the corner of one eye, Terizan saw Poli raise a scented cloth to his nose even though the smell was no worse than a great many parts of the city in high summer.

  "They will have to be identified," Saladaz declared at his most pompous, struggling to regain his dignity.

  "I'm sure there are those about who would be happy to help." From all around the Crescent came cries of agreement. Caravans that surrendered without a fight, Hyrantaz had stripped bare of everything save lives – it amused him to see a line of naked, helpless people stagger off towards the city, not all of them surviving to reach safety. "I'll take a third of what we're owed now and the rest at the end of the week."

  Councilor Aleezan, who most considered to be the best brain in the Congress, stepped forward, laid a slender hand on Saladaz's shoulder and murmured something in his ear. Too far away to hear what was said, Terizan saw Saladaz nod. He didn't look happy.

  "It will take a moment to count the coin," he said, tucking his hands into the heavy embroidered cuffs of his robe and scowling up at Swan. "If we can have it sent to you later today..."

  "By noon," Swan suggested, in no way making it sound like the ultimatum everyone knew it was. "We'll be headquartering at The Lion."

  "By noon," Saladaz agreed.

  At a nod from his captain, Slice whipped his pike forward and with a moist thud, Hyrantaz's head joined the pile on the Congress steps.

  Terizan felt her knees go weak as Swan smiled. "To complete the set," she said and pulled her horse's head around.

  "SWAN! SWAN! SWAN!" The cheers that followed the Wing from the Crescent echoed off the Congress, battering the councilors from two directions.

  "She's so..."

  "Barbaric?" Poli offered. That at least one of Swan's immediate ancestors was a Kerber – a loose confederacy of warring tribes that kept the west in constant turmoil – was obvious.

  "Beautiful," Terizan snapped.

  Poli laughed. "Well, you do know where she's staying. You could always wander in and..." He winked. "...introduce yourself." He laughed again as she paled. "Never mind, dear. I suppose you're still young enough for unrequited lust to have a certain masochistic fascination." Gathering up her hand, he tucked it in the crook of his arm. "I'm sure that with your skills you'll be able to get close enough to watch her without her ever suspecting you're there."

  "I can't." Terizan pulled her hand free, suddenly remembering what the Wing's return – What Swan, she corrected – had pushed out of her head. "I'm going to the Guild today."

  Poli looked at her for a long moment. When he spoke his voice was softer and less affected than she'd ever heard it. "That fall really spooked you, didn't it?"

  She nodded, trying not to think about the carving crumbling under her foot, about the long drop, about the landing. "If I'd broken something..."

  "But you didn't."

  "I'm not fool enough to think it'll never happen again." She spread her hands. "The Guild takes care of you. You know that, Poli. The whores have one of the first Guilds in the city."

  "Granted. But somehow I just can't see you meekly accepting a Guild's control over your life." His features fell into the nearest thing to a frown she'd ever seen him wear. "You don't even take advice well."

  When she shrugged, she could still feel the ache in bruised bone. Still feel the terror of lying in the darkness and wondering what would become of her if her strength and agility had been destroyed. "I've made up my mind, Poli."

  He shook his head. "And you're not likely to change it, are you?" Sighing, he leaned forward and lightly kissed her cheek. "Be careful, sweetling." Then, just in case he should be accused of sentiment, added archly, "Friends who don't expect freebies are rare."

  ***

  The Thieves' Guild believed that anyone who couldn't find them and gain access had no business applying for membership. The yellow stone building built into the inside curve of the old city wall showed no outward indication of what went on inside, but Terizan had heard the stories about it most of her life.

  "Getting into the house is just the beginning. You have to take a thieves' path to the Sanctum deep underground."

  She didn't believe all the stories about the traps set along that path – wizards were too rare and far too expensive to use for such mundane purposes – but she believed enough to approach with caution. The roof would be guarded, likewise the windows that were even remotely accessible. Which left her with two choices; an inaccessible window, or the front door.

  While there was a certain in-your-face kind of charm to walking in through the front door, Terizan decided not to risk it as that was very likely the kind of attitude the Guild could do without. Besides, for a good thief, no window was truly inaccessible.

  ***

  A hair shorter and a half a hair wider, she mused, squatting silently under the tiny window tucked into the eaves, and I wouldn't have made it. As it was she'd very nearly had to dislocate a shoulder and slice the curve off both hips to get through. Strapping her pack to her chest – no point in carrying equipment if it couldn't be reached quickly – Terizan started looking for a path into the heart of the Guild house.

  Some considerable time later, she sat down on the floor of a grey-tiled hall and thought seriously about going out the way she'd come in. She'd dealt with all the locks, all the traps, and a dog – who'd been incredibly surprised to have a live and very angry rat tossed at him – but was no closer to finding the Sanctum than she'd been. Her stomach growled and she sagged against the wall, about at the end of her resources, personal and otherwise. Her pack was almost empty and the tiny lantern, now closed and dark at her side, was nearly out of oil.

  And then she heard the voices.

  Someone was making loud, angry accusations. Someone else was making equally loud, angry denials. Terizan sank lower and lower until her ear pressed against the floor. She still couldn't make out the words, but she didn't need to. Smiling in spite of her exhaustion, she traced the edge of the tile next to the one she was sitting on and felt a pair of hinges and a wire.

  Movement of the wire would very likely ring bells or the equivalent to announce the imminent arrival of company. Resisting the urge to hum, she twisted it up so that the trap door no longer affected it and carefully applied pressure to the tile. Underneath, was the traditional narrow chute. Bracing herself against the sides, she chimney-walked down, pausing only long enough to close the trap.

  The voices were much louder.

  "...pay for results!"

  It was a man's voice but it made her think of Swan, dumping the heads in front of the councilors and demanding payment. Hardly surprising, as lately everything made her think of the mercenary captain. Earlier, the tiny beam of light fro
m her lantern had made her think of Swan's life-braid gleaming against her armour. Sternly, she told herself to get her mind back on the business at hand.

  "...received exactly what you paid for. If the end result was not what you desired that is not the fault of this Guild."

  Her fingertips touched the bottom trap door. She could see the thin lines of light around three sides and knew this had to be the end of the line. The voices were directly below her.

  "You haven't heard the end of this." The growled warning carried more force than all the shouting. A door slammed.

  Muscles straining against the stone, Terizan turned herself around and gently pushed the trap door open a crack. She could see the edge of a scarred wooden table, piled high with junk.

  "Although we fulfilled the terms of the agreement, he could cause trouble later," a new voice muttered.

  A third voice sighed and admitted, "He could."

  "Don't be ridiculous. He has no desire to have his association with us made public. Still, although I hate to do it, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to make some small attempt to mollify him." A woman's hand with long, narrow, ringless fingers reached into Terizan's limited field of vision and picked up a parchment scroll. It took her a moment to realize she was seeing it through a lattice work of rope. A net. Obviously, she was intended to go flying into it whereupon half the supports would break away, leaving her dangling helplessly in mid air.

  Her blood singing, she opened the door a little further, grabbed the edges and swung back with it. At the far end of the swing, she let go. Momentum carried her curled body past the edge of the net. She uncurled just before she hit the floor, landing heavier than she would've liked.

  She could feel astonishment wash over her like a wave as she straightened.

  A half a dozen lanterns banished all shadow from the small room. Two of the walls were covered floor to ceiling in racks of scrolls, one wall in a detailed map of the city, the fourth wall held a pair of doors. Spread out over the floor was a costly, though stained, carpet. A man, a woman, and a person who could have been either or both, sat behind the table and stared at her, open-mouthed. No one knew their names, but they called themselves the Thieves' Guild Tribunal.